


Paroxysm

by ItsOphelia



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:44:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsOphelia/pseuds/ItsOphelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Myka also lives in 19th century London. After Myka's parents learn of her unconventional feelings, they order her to see a doctor. Helena has other plans.</p><p>I'd been planning this one for a while, then a post by Tantedrago inspired me to actually write it and adapt the idea slightly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paroxysm

**London, England: 1896**

Helena hadn’t even looked ashamed of herself. She’d given what Myka was sure was a most insincere apology before smirking in _that_ way – the way that had made Myka blush to the roots of her hair the first time she’d seen it, and was having the same effect now – then strode out of the shop. As the tiny bell rang out and the door closed behind her, Myka avoided meeting her parents’ eyes.

‘You may well blush, Myka. What on God’s Earth has possessed you?’

‘I don’t know.’ Her voice caught and she felt a lump begin in her throat. Did he think she’d given no thought to what she’d been doing? Did he not realise how wrong she’d felt, and how very right at the same time? How many nights she’d spent tossing and turning and worrying before falling into a sleep full of the most beautiful, terrible dreams?

Myka Bering, the girl who had never before committed even the thought of an indiscretion, was well and truly appalled with herself.

‘What would people think? Perhaps a customer peering through the window? An important seller?’

They’d been right at the back of the bookshop, behind the shelves, but Myka knew better than to contradict her father.

‘Who is this girl? She seemed well dressed, if peculiarly so. I have a mind to speak to her father.’

She couldn’t tell her father Helena’s true identity – he would think her completely insane. Myka herself had found it unbelievable, but just a few long conversations with Helena revealed the genius she so often had to keep hidden. Yet she couldn’t speak of Helena’s everyday identity either. She had never met the Helena who wore long gowns and was so popular in London society, but that Helena was adamant that no-one in those circles should find out about her escapades and adventures.

She settled on the closest lie to the truth that she could.

‘She’s a customer, an avid reader of H.G. Wells. She buys his books whenever they come out. Then we talk about them.’

‘And that’s what you were doing when we came across you earlier? Talking?’

She grew hot all over at the memory. Since the first time Helena had tenderly pressed those soft lips to Myka’s own, their relationship had grown no more intimate until this afternoon. This time, instead of pulling back and making her usual exit, Helena had pulled her into a tighter embrace. They had been pressed so closely together that Myka was sure her rapidly beating heart could be felt through her chest. As Helena’s lips parted, she felt more than she ever had before – feeling what, she did not know, just _more_ … and just as she opened her own mouth to reciprocate she’d heard a scandalized gasp and suddenly her parents were there.

Her father cleared his throat and she was brought back to the present.

‘Wait upstairs, Myka. Your mother and I need to discuss this.’

xxx

Myka sat on her bed, reading _The Time Machine_. However, this was no ordinary copy of the book. During one of her long discussions about it with Helena, the margins had become filled with the writer’s delicate penmanship – answers to Myka’s questions and new theories that she’d suddenly developed and simply had to write down. Myka didn’t understand all of them, but she treasured each addition to the book – particularly the written inscription that read ‘My Dearest Myka’ followed by a signature. It was very different to the one in the signed copies in the shop, but the knowledge that she held the only genuine one in existence thrilled her.

As she heard footsteps approaching her doorway, she hastily pushed the book under her mattress. Her father would be horrified at the vandalism of the book – especially if he knew who had committed the crime.

The visitor turned out to be her mother, who closed the door behind her and eyed Myka sadly.

‘Sometimes your father and I wish we’d tried harder to find someone to marry you.’

Had Myka not been in enough trouble as it was, she would have sighed in exasperation. As it was, she merely picked at a hole in her blanket and murmured her protest.

‘I didn’t want anyone to marry me.’

Her mother sat down on her bed and carried on as if she hadn’t heard.

‘I know it must be hard – by your age, I’d been married for ten years and had borne both you and your sister. Tracy settled into courtship so easily, we thought that in time you would too. But you were always locked away, lost in your stories. You showed no interest in stepping out, so we thought perhaps you were just happy without a husband. I see now we were wrong.’

‘I am happy. I love working in the store, I don’t wish for a husband.’

‘Myka, what you were… this afternoon… that’s what women do with their husbands.’

‘I know, Mother.’ She also knew, from books she’d found on a discreet shelf in the back of the shop, that some women did exactly what she and Helena had done, and more besides. However, even in stories these relationships were clandestine and frowned upon. Myka had grown hot whilst reading them, and always took care to put each book back exactly where she’d found it.

For a long time, her mother said nothing. Finally she shifted uncomfortably and hesitantly opened her mouth.

‘Darling, it isn’t unheard of for some girls – particularly those who haven’t settled – to have certain… desires.’

Myka knew her face was turning pink, and she wanted to cry from the frustration of it. Jeannie eyed her knowingly, and took her daughter’s hand.

‘You are not to blame, Myka. But it simply isn’t done. There are some who call it a symptom of hysteria. We will send you to a doctor, there are treatments available. Apparently they are quite wonderful.’

Myka knew she couldn’t say anything without her voice cracking, so she simply pressed her lips together and nodded. Her mother gave her hand a gentle squeeze and rose. Before she left the room, she turned.

‘Your father and I do not want to see that woman on our premises again. Is that understood?’

‘Understood.’

As soon as Jeannie left the room, Myka lay down and sobbed into her pillow. She missed Helena already. She hated the doctor. Why couldn’t they just let her be?

xxx

Later that week, Myka had settled back into the monotony of her daily routine. She was scheduled to see the doctor the next day, and the very idea filled her with dread.

It was late afternoon, and the shop was empty. She was dusting the shelves to pass the time – that task never seemed complete – until she rounded a corner and found herself in the H.G. Wells section.

She placed her duster down on the shelf and looked about, remembering the many times she and Helena had spent here. She closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of the books – one of her favourite smells – then paused. She could smell something else – fresh like outdoors, sweet like perfume, with the hint of something faintly mechanical.

‘Hello, Myka.’

She opened her eyes and whirled round, laying eyes on the face she never thought she would see again. Immediately her heart leapt in her chest and her face broke into a smile. She stepped forwards and embraced Helena tightly before remembering herself and pulling away. Her expression became somber.

 ‘Helena, if my father catches you here…’

‘He won’t. He’ll not be back from his seller’s meeting for at least another hour, and your mother rarely comes into the shop when you are working.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I am quite gifted in investigation and infiltration.’

Myka had to smile at Helena’s perfectly smug expression, before she felt a rush of emotion.

‘I didn’t think I’d see you again.’

‘I hope to keep seeing you for some time, Myka Bering. Believe it or not, I have faced more terrifying foes than your father in my time.’

‘That makes one of us.’ Her good mood was suddenly broken – for a few moments she’d forgotten what was to happen tomorrow.

‘They’re making me see a doctor, Helena. They say I’m hysterical. What’s happening between us, they want to make it go away.’

Having Helena real and solid and oh so beautiful in front of her made the thought of losing her even worse, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

‘I don’t want it to. I can’t bear the idea that I could be with you and not feel anything.’

Helena took her hands and looked her directly in the eye. It was slightly unnerving for Myka to see her so serious – no smirking or smugness, no sparkling wit.

‘Myka, nothing and nobody can change how you feel. It’s a part of you. No matter what anyone tells you, it’s not shameful or dangerous. You are not ill. They just don’t understand. And what they don’t understand they shame and hide away, because they fear it.’

Myka let out a sob of relief.

‘So I can see you again?’

‘I very much hope so. Unfortunately, discretion will be required.’

‘What about the doctor?’

‘What time will you see him tomorrow?’

‘At three o’clock.’

‘Meet me around the corner at a quarter to three.’

xxx

The next day Myka bid her mother goodbye and set off. She rounded the corner to see that Helena was already there. With barely a greeting, she took Myka’s hand and dragged her into a nearby passageway.

‘Helena, where are we going?’

‘Somewhere quite wonderful.’

‘What about the doctor?’

‘I’ve taken care of it.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Less talking, more walking, darling. We are somewhat limited for time today.’

They emerged from the passageways and crossed through a leafy green park. Myka was unfamiliar with this side of the city, and was surprised when they stopped outside a small cottage and Helena unlocked the door.

‘My work cottage,’ she said by way of explanation. ‘I have a workshop here, and a quiet room for writing – there’s always such fussing in our house. It’s also rather perfect when one needs some privacy.’

Once they were inside, Helena led Myka through the house until they reached a small, ornately furnished bedchamber. She sat down on a plush blue chaise longue and gestured for Myka to join her.

‘So.’

‘So… what are we doing in your bedroom?’

‘If you are willing, your treatment.’

‘My… there’s a doctor here?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘You mean _you_ want to perform a medical procedure? Are you completely insane?’

‘Some people would say arguably yes. However, I wouldn’t call this a procedure as much as a home remedy.’

‘Helena, you are one of the most intelligent people I have ever met, but you have no physician’s training.’

Helena held up a finger and got to her feet. She pulled a medical dictionary off the bookshelf, opened it to a marked page and handed it to Myka.

‘I thought, for a girl who places so much trust in the written word… read the marked definition aloud, if you please?’

Myka found her place and uncertainly began to read.

‘ _Hysteria: An ailment of the womb, causing irregular symptoms and behaviour in women. A chronic condition alleviated by pelvic massage to the point of paroxysm_.’ She looked up from the text.

‘Pelvic massage?’

‘To the point of paroxysm. A so called ‘procedure’ in which I have boundless experience – and if I may be so bold, far more skill than most physicians.’

‘So you’d be doing exactly the same thing as the doctor?’

‘With a much more pleasurable result, I assure you.’

‘Pleasurable?’ Myka was sceptical. In her experience, the words ‘doctor’ and ‘pleasant’ were mutually exclusive.

‘Immensely so.’

‘You must promise me that this procedure is completely safe.’

Helena took Myka’s hands in her own.

‘Myka, have you ever… fornicated?’

Myka flushed. She knew of the term, of course – of the act itself and its more vulgar descriptions. But she’d never… she coughed.

‘Ahem… no.’

‘That’s all it is, Myka. That’s the procedure.’

‘From the _doctor_?’

‘A completely natural bodily function that has been needlessly commoditised by the medical community to swindle money from people. Shocking practice, if you ask me. If only these women knew what they could achieve from the comfort of their own beds…’

Myka wasn’t much concerned with medical ethics right now.

‘You want to do that… to me.’

‘My darling, nothing would give me greater pleasure. Only if you are equally inclined, of course. Or, if you’d like, we could simply carry on from where your parents so rudely interrupted us.’

Myka bit her lip, still tinged slightly pink from the most frank conversation she’d ever had. Eventually she nodded.

‘I’d like that.’

Helena took her hand and led her over to the exquisite bed. Sitting next to one another on the edge, she tenderly stroked a curly tendril that had escaped Myka’s hairpins and pushed it behind her ear. Several brief, gentle kisses followed before Myka leaned in further and this time, there were no interruptions. She felt a complete sense of detachment from her everyday life, a freedom that allowed her to get lost in this moment and want nothing more than to love and be loved by this extraordinary woman.

A while later Myka pulled back slightly, just enough for her adoring eyes to take a long look at Helena. Warmth had flooded her insides, her stomach was fluttering, and she never wanted it to end.

‘This procedure...’ she murmured. ‘It feels good?’

‘More than good.’

‘Better than this?’

‘Much better.’

‘I feel scared, Helena.’

‘We can take it one step at a time, stop whenever you like.’

Myka gave it another moment’s consideration, before nodding. In response, Helena kissed her again, slowly and deeply. Pulling back, she cupped Myka’s face gently.

‘Tell me what you feel. The moment it feels bad, I will stop immediately. If it feels good, I can make it even better. Are you ready?’

‘I’m ready.’

Helena began with feather light kisses down the exposed skin of Myka’s neck, too soon reaching the neckline of her blouse.

‘May I, Myka?’

Myka nodded her assent and Helena began to unbutton her lover’s blouse. Continuing her trail of kisses along the edge of corset, she was glad that Myka’s working clothes were looser and simpler than the ones she frequently had to wear. Practiced hands unlaced the undergarment at the back, before she paused and looked to Myka for permission.

Myka, heart hammering in her chest, was conflicted for a moment. Helena’s actions were tender and gentle, relaxing and at the same time terribly exciting. She was feeling remarkably underdressed sitting next to Helena in her tailored blouse and waistcoat, which felt rough against her bare skin.

‘May I see you too?’

Helena arched a dark eyebrow before complying, quickly unbuttoning her clothing to reveal a small brassiere that exposed her midriff. Seeing Myka staring, she explained.

‘Those elaborate corsets are tremendously uncomfortable. Completely unnecessary under loose clothing, and much harder to remove in certain situations.’ She winked at Myka, who for once found herself smiling back instead of blushing – until the brassiere was indeed removed and she found herself shyly transfixed by Helena’s confidence in her nakedness.

‘Lie back for me, Myka,’ Helena said softly. Myka complied and, clothes loosened, Helena continued on her mission. Her kisses ran across the top of the corset, and Myka bit her lip as the fabric of the dislodged garment stroked her and sent shivers down her spine. Paying close attention to every reaction, Helena used her thumb to apply more pressure, and Myka began to squirm.

‘Does that feel good?’

‘Very…’ Myka stated. Helena moved the fabric obstruction and her kisses moved lower, circling round the exposed nipple before taking it in her mouth. Hearing a shaky intake of breath at the sensation, she continued loving her breasts with her mouth and hands until she felt her partner arching beneath her.

‘More, darling?’

‘Mmmm,’ was the only reply as Myka’s head tilted backwards against the pillows.

Skirts were an easier beast to navigate than corsets, and it wasn’t long before Helena’s free hand was stroking its way gently downwards. As she met the waistband of Myka’s underwear she felt muscles tense beneath her fingers and she paused, looked up to meet conflicted green eyes.

‘Are you alright?’

She could stop now, retain her goodness. She could make her excuses and return home, could rid her mind of such unclean thoughts. Yet what Helena had already done was intoxicating, and she knew she was beyond saving. Her body was still responding – tightening, pulsing, begging for continuation. She took a deep breath in an attempt to steady her nerves, and nodded.

Helena slipped her fingers down to where a damp patch was forming on the fabric of her underwear, and applied pressure.

The reaction was immediate – a gasp, slight arching of hips and a long slow exhale which Helena could tell Myka was fighting to control. She stilled her hands for a second, and Myka immediately missed the sensation.

 ‘Please, Helena. It feels so…’

A low moan escaped her as Helena’s hands slipped into her underwear and resumed the gentle stroking. When slim fingers slipped downwards and drew moisture up to Myka’s sweet spot, she felt the tightening spasms in her abdomen spread to her back and thighs. Helena’s ministrations varied between fast and slow, gentle strokes and hard pressure, circles and… she could not think anymore, she just knew that what she was feeling should never, _ever_ stop.

Helena looked on and felt herself beginning to throb as Myka started to lose control, hips moving in time with her strokes. Her inhibitions had been left behind some time ago, and she whispered ‘good’ every so often to keep Helena on the right path. However, as Helena slipped two fingers into her welcoming channel and her muscles clenched around them, Myka became incapable of speech. Her hips moved frantically in time with Helena’s thrusts and her ragged breathing gave way only to whimpers of pleasure.

Myka herself was utterly lost, knowing nothing but the mounting pressure in her abdomen and waves of glorious sensation like nothing she’d experienced before. She thought it could get no better, until Helena’s thrusts turned to rapid stimulation of a place that turned her whimpers into cries of ecstasy. She felt an electric pulse building, building, building, until suddenly it spread up her spine and she was in heaven.

As the feeling faded she could do nothing but gasp, eyes finally opening and locking wildly onto Helena’s.

‘That… that was…’

‘That, my dear Myka, was paroxysm.’

xxx

After she had her breath back, they lay locked in a warm embrace until Helena caught sight of the clock and realized it was soon time to return. After a hurried wash and an attempt to tame her escaped curls, they stepped back out into the late afternoon sunshine.

When they reached the corner of Myka’s street, she pulled Helena back into the shadows of a passageway.

‘It seems you were right, Helena.’

‘As is often the case. On what specific occasion?’

‘The paroxysm. It didn’t cure me at all. It only made me love you more.’

It was dark in the passageway, but Myka could just make out Helena’s know it all smile fading, to be replaced by a much softer expression.

‘I love you too, Myka.’


End file.
